Act
by Solziv
Summary: Dark Knight. Childhood admiration has become something more for Dawes, but can she go through with acting upon it? One-shot. For melliemellie.


**A/N:** This initially began with the simple idea of me writing a _Batman_ story, followed by a conversation with melliemellie. I said "how about a Rachel/Gordon fic?", but I had no idea what to write, so left it for a while to collect dust. Then, a while later, melliemellie actually requested a fic involving the pairing, so I decided to get down to it. And here it is!

I have to admit feeling completely out of my depth when writing this, since it had been literally _years_ since seeing _The Dark Knight_ , and I hadn't ever attempted writing these characters before. I just hope I've done it justice.

* * *

After being sat in her car for almost half an hour, overthinking memories – important moments spent with family and friends – Rachel decided it was time to step out and deal with her emotional dilemma. Nothing short of a massive choice only she could make, it required every shred of her courage and determination.

The car door slammed shut behind her and blue optics settled dead ahead, upon the Gotham City police department building. Step by slow step, she made her way to the doors, and pushed them open, advancing through the entrance hall toward the reception desk.

Her stomach now a nest of butterflies, she wanted to turn tail and rush back to her vehicle, but forced herself to calm and continue onwards and upwards. Things had to be said.

Well, _one_ thing, actually.

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Good afternoon, Miss Dawes."

Rachel smiled warmly and offered the same greeting. "I'm here to see Gordon."

"Of course. He's expecting you."

"Thanks."

The brunette proceeded towards the lift. Luckily, a figure just stepped out, so it was immediately available for entry. She then tapped the button; the doors closed, claustrophobically sealing her within the metal womb. Monotonous, sardonically-cheerful elevator music filtered into it via the speakers. Although she would have usually blotted it out, her mind now focused on the tune (or, rather, what passed for one) – anything to settle her nerves and serve as a momentary distraction.

The lift gave a _ding_ and the doors retracted. She stepped into the hallway, a multitude of offices facing her on either side, but merely continued straight ahead. Arriving at her destination, she rapped her knuckles on the wood and clearly announced her presence. A muffled "come in" emerged from within, so she pulled the handle down and pushed the door ajar, coming face-to-face with a man known long before her days as a lawyer.

Blue eyes absorbed the familiar countenance of one James Gordon. He was obviously tired – bags under his eyes, pale skin and tousled, dark hair – but that crinkled smile left a fresh wave of relief washing over her. Seeing him offered fresh resolve.

"Rachel. It's been a while," he said, rising from his desk and gesturing for her to take a seat. She did so, avoiding his gaze as much as possible, albeit without making him suspicious. _He's far too perceptive._ "How have you been?"

"Same old, same old," she casually remarked, regaining self-control. "You?"

"Ditto."

They shared a small chuckle; the lives of cops and lawyers in Gotham weren't all that exciting – dangerous, yes, but not the way it was depicted in movies.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable; to maintain the flow of conversation, Dawes searched the handbag at her feet and carefully lifted out a tan folder – also known as 'Plan B'. It offered an the excuse for being in the office. _And backup plan, just in case I can't…_ But she didn't finish that thought, immediately batting it away, and instead refocused her mind on the present. "Here's the Berkman file. Thanks for letting me pore over it again."

"Ah, thanks. Hope it came to some use." He accepted the folder and quickly flicked through the pages, then set it down onto his desk, swapping with an empty mug. "I'll get right on it…although after a damn good cup of coffee."

"The machine serves good coffee?" she enquired, and was met with a shake of the head.

"It's terrible."

Being casual and carefree like this was a good break from the pressures of Rachel's work and personal life. Both involved Harvey and Bruce, and should have also included James, but things certainly didn't feel that way. The detective was driven, yet not overbearing like the other two. _Of course, Wayne has his reasons…_

" _Gordon's a friend."_ It came unbidden into her psyche – an answer to Harvey's questions. She knew her response had been defensive, and likely sounded that way, but was to convince herself more than anyone else.

Perhaps, if she had earlier realised the meaning of _friend_ could be bent in multiple ways, it could have saved her the trouble of trapping herself in this predicament. _This predicament – what a way to put it._

Gordon continued talking all the while, describing a nothing police story that Dawes couldn't really focus on, yet it was simply nice to hear his soothing and relaxed voice in the background. Unlike many Gothamites, he was down-to-earth, honest and even had the bonus of a good sense of humour. There was no need to pretend to be the uptight lawyer in his presence; for that, she offered eternal gratitude.

A thought, and their accompanying feelings, struck her quite suddenly. She enjoyed this comradery – far too much. Would she really toss that aside for a perhaps ill-timed, ill-advised declaration?

 _No._ Their friendship was worth too much. It would be better to push her feelings aside, let them fade, and focus on her current love interest, Harvey.

Watching from afar might not be easier, but certainly safer. And Rachel would make sure it was enough.


End file.
